Mother and son share more than expected while hiking, It was Harry’s favorite time of year in the Catskills – late September, when the last breaths of summer warmth give way reluctantly to upstate New York autumn in a prelude to the first real chills. The vast acreage past the house where he grew up had belonged to a recently deceased farmer named Bill Meisler who, several years before his death, sold his land to a logging company with the stipulation that it would be managed by his nephew and maintained as a wildlife management area, open to hunters and campers and logged selectively.
Harry had recently turned 25. He was three years out of college and after some false starts, he finally secured a job position fitting his education as an industrial engineer at a medium-sized paper products plant just north of Philadelphia. He was back in his hometown to visit his mother Claire, as well as his uncle Frank and cousin Mark who lived at the other end of the small town. Harry’s late father was nearly two decades Claire’s senior and had died of a heart attack more than ten years ago, when Frank was a high school freshman. His mother’s brother Frank had become like a second father, and his cousin Mark like the brother he never had. Mark – a strange young man really. Obsessed with his studies and with his hobbies, never dated in high school except for an awkward post-graduation tryst with the easiest girl in high school, and then went off on who knows what tangents in college. Still, Harry learned everything he knew about the woods and waters from his eccentric uncle and cousin and was happy for that, for all their strangeness and all.
After an early lunch, Harry gestured out towards the window and suggested, “Hey mom, I’m off for a walk on Bill Meisler’s old place, do you want to go?”
“Sure…but the forecast didn’t look so great.”
“What are you talking about, the sky is clear, the breeze is fresh, what is there not to like? When’s the last time the weathermen were right, especially in the spring and fall around here?”
Claire agreed to go along with her son, after all, she was going to see less and less of him during the course of the year with his new career and all, and she enjoyed the surrounding woods and fields nearly as much as he did. Harry filled a backpack with some bottles of water and some other emergency essentials and they were on their way across the road, over the boardwalk creek bridge, and onto the Meisler property’s main trail.
The woods were beautiful, thanks to the mix of green on the oaks, elms, birch and beech that hadn’t realized it was fall combined with the somber reds, yellows and browns of the patches of leaves that the season had already caught up to. As Harry and his mother passed under dense patches of trees along the trail and then back into little clearings, the dappled sunlight seemed to give both Harry’s light brown hair and his mother’s shoulder-length red hair a unique glow.
The animals were in transition too, some of the summer birds were still there for their last hurrah while others were already gone. To amuse himself, Harry kept kicking up clusters of brush with the hope of flushing a ruffed grouse for the entertainment value of watching it “explode” into the air, an old strategy Mark had taught him. Claire loved the sound they made as they took off, like a distant engine being revved. No luck, though a flock of wild turkeys made a great cameo appearance, proud tom turkeys with their long beards and no interest in strutting or breeding in the fall – peacefully clucking rather than strutting or gobbling as they ambled off back into the brush.
Admiring the turkeys, she said “Something about wild turkeys is almost out of place, like they belonged in some tropical far-away land, like the hummingbirds.” Claire smiled dreamily, looking at the metallic sheen coming off the feathers of the birds as they marched purposefully out of sight and into the brush. Pushing fifty, she approached middle age well, her un-dyed red hair having a few small streaks of gray, and the few lines and crow’s feet along her face showing maturity but not aging. Her sweater and jeans accommodated a thick yet toned and strong body with unassuming grace.
Harry himself had lost interest in playing sports between high school and his last years in college, but he was still lean and fairly muscular – something he was proud of when contrasted to his slightly older cousin who seemed to go from skinny to paunchy over the course of half a decade. Whereas his cousin was morose and eccentric, Harry was well-liked and popular, with a new girlfriend every few months. His current dry spell was unusual, perhaps meeting women in the real world was different from parties and dating in college, or maybe he just needed a break to focus on work and getting his life in order.
“Let’s cut up to this ridge over here, I’ve always liked the view there…”
“So did..” Claire spoke, her words interrupted by a jumped herd of deer, all does. The deer made their way up the ridge straight ahead of them, and when she stumbled a bit over a wet mossy log and fell into a clump of ferns, her son dutifully helped her up and walked on.
Upon reaching the top and looking down onto the fields below, Claire caught her breath and repeated, “I’m so happy you took this time off to visit, it’s getting more quiet and lonely with each day. Nobody to go walking with for one thing.”
“Come on, mom, uncle Frank is right down the road, your friend Mary comes by to talk your ear off more than you can take, and you’re busy with work…”
“I know, but it’s not the same. I guess, well…I don’t know what’s important to me now, with your father gone for more than ten years, and now you’re a few years out of college but just as far away now as before.”
“You know I’ll visit, like I am now. Philly isn’t that far away, and I have a flexible schedule. After all, how can I leave all this behind…my home, you, where I grew up. Even this. I love these woods, lots of fun and fond memories.”
“Even more for me – I’ve had more time for it to grow on me!”
Meanwhile, fall and summer were having their last wrestling match, where the warm, humid air of end summer was getting pushed back by a sudden strong cold front. The moist, stagnant air in the mid 70’s was going back and forth with air gusts that were at least 20 degrees colder, as the sky grew steadily grayer and darker. The forecast had in fact been accurate.
“Do you think we should head back, Harry?”
“Don’t worry, just a breeze, let’s head on…”
As Harry and Claire hiked on, the wind gusts picked up, stirring up fallen leaves in waves and spirals, and the forest seemed to realize that the front was serious. In the clearings, the butterflies and grasshoppers seemed to stop flying, and the calls of songbirds were nowhere to be heard. Then, after a calm pause, the sky opened up with a thunderclap, and the rain came down in torrents.
Soaked through within less than a minute, Claire said with exasperation, “Is this your idea of fun, son? What do we do now?”
Worse than the rain was the wind and drop in temperature. The previous pleasant warmth was pushed out and the air was probably under 50, on top of all the wind and rain.
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